Harry sat in his cell. He could no longer think of it as a room. Not with its bare stone walls and hard bed.
"If I had my wand I could make it look a little less harsh at least." he mused. A frown creased his face as he mentally shook himself for even considering that he would be staying there any length of time. Once he got into that mindset, there would be no escaping. He touched one of the rapidly healing cracks that covered his body, amazed at how quickly they were disappearing. Judging by the rate they were healing, he would have nothing to show for that particular spell by the time he went to meet Voldemort again. He supposed the spell had been used as an effective knockout in order to bring him here without him resisting. The very thought of how this had been carried out made Harry shiver. There was something more to this than met the eye.
So he was Voldemort's prisoner. And he was expected to go to this party this evening, and whatever that would entail. Harry realised as he sat there that the terror of being a captive he had felt before was slowly dwindling away to nothing. Just like his anger. It was pointless to be angry at something you couldn't't fight, especially when you were their…guest. Harry glanced at his watch. Only twenty minutes left before this party.
He thought back to what Voldemort had told him. They shared the same birthday. This had gone beyond coincidental similarities, or what Harry thought of as Scar Connections. It was almost as if Harry was a smaller copy of Voldemort. Harry recoiled from that thought as if it would bite him.
"I'm not a copy! I'm good…I'm in Gryffindor!" Harry shouted fiercely, refusing to believe that they were the same. In the distance he could hear a cold high laugh-or was it in his head?- and the hoots and caws of carrion birds. Harry rubbed his forehead agitatedly, not knowing whether Voldemort was in his head and reading his thoughts, or even placing the thoughts in his head. How could he know what was him?
'Think. Think back to Snape. Build a mental wall!' he tried to clear his mind and wrap up his thoughts as he had been told to do in Occulmency, before Snape had thrown him out, but it was no use. If anything, his head seemed to fill with more thoughts, each more worried than the last. If this was Voldemort's doing, and it was his intention to drive him mad, he was going about it very well. Within the last five minutes, Harry had been reduced to a heap on the floor, tearing at his head; unsure which thoughts were his own.
Had Goyle been more aware when he had come into the room, he would have perhaps felt pity for the adolescent who was curled up in the farthest corner shaking. Or perhaps not. He hauled Harry to his feet and pushed him out of the room grinning stupidly. Standing in the tunnel outside his cell, Harry managed to pull himself together. Banishing all paranoid thoughts from his mind, he straightened up, determined not to show a weak front to the Dark Lord.
Once again they walked through the twisting corridors and emerged into the huge hall. However, this time there was not just Voldemort, but a ring of hooded men, Death Eaters, waiting his arrival. So they had all escaped. Harry gulped in air as his lungs seemed to constrict once more in fear.
'I'm going to die.' He thought. But with that thought he realised he felt very little. As if all his anxiety had fled at his acceptance of the idea.
He was pushed into the ring of Death Eaters roughly by Goyle, who then went to take his place in the circle. Two other taller, more intelligent looking Death Eaters took up station either side of Harry, and Voldemort entered the circle to stand opposite him. Harry had a feeling that this was more a ritual than he had first believed, and a ritual which had been performed many times at that. He couldn't't stop a shudder escape him. Although his mind was not, his body was still in terror's grip.
Suddenly a luminous green fire sprung up between Harry and Voldemort, and an evil smile spread across the latter's face.
"Happy Birthday Harry. We have a present for you." The tall figure said, with a hint of anticipation in his voice. "And now we will see what our precious Golden Boy is made of."
His cryptic joke was nontheless rewarded with sycophantic laughter from his cloaked followers. They all seemed to know what was going on, even if Harry did not. He expected nothing less.Voldemort merely looked at Harry with the same unfathomable expression he had worn earlier until the laughter subsided. Then the man, with his snake-like eyes, took one pace closer to the fire, and motioned the boy to do the same. Harry could not refuse with the two Death Eaters, one of whom he was sure was Lucius Malfoy, standing right behind him.
Harry could only watch as Voldemort withdrew a long shaft of iron from a holder which had appeared with the fire. As Voldemort thrust it into the emerald flames, Harry's insides ran cold. It was a branding iron, and he was going to be branded. It came to Harry in a flash why he was here. He was going to receive the Dark Mark. As if reading his mind, the two Death Eaters on either side of him grabbed hold of his arms, and Harry struggle against their grasp was futile. The left sleeve of his robes, the same that he had put on for a mere outing to Diagon Alley twenty four hours ago, was roughly pulled up. Harry's scar pulsed immense pain throughout his body as Voldemort took the glowing brand out of the fire, and with a malicious smile, plunged it onto the clear pale skin of Harry's forearm. He thought he was going to collapse under the pain from both his arm and his head. The pungent smell of burning human flesh pervaded the air, but none of the Death Eaters who surrounded him moved, or even flinched at the disgusting fumes. Every eye was riveted on the glowing iron and the black colour of the scorched skin that was beginning to surround it.
When Voldemort removed the brand from Harry's arm, the top layer of his skin had melted onto it, and came away. Harry screamed. At that sound Voldemort quickly withdrew his wand, and before the echoes of the scream had receded from the halls, he had cast an incantation over the burnt flesh. If Harry had been able to think coherently, he would have said that the spell made the pain even more acute, but the fire that seamed to be spreading through his body left his mind completely blank. As he fell to the floor, he was vaguely aware of Voldemort speaking.
"You shall return to your cell, and eat what will be brought to you. Then, tomorrow, you will be seen into London, to wherever you choose to stay. You will remember none of this Harry, and you will return here whenever I call you."
The cake which Molly Weasley had made especially for Harry's birthday sat on the table, untouched. Ron, Hermione, the twins, Charlie and Ginny all sat round the table, while Molly hovered around the sink, desperately waiting for any news from the Ministry.
After the attack, Ron and Hermione had fled through the streets to find Arthur, who immediately went to the Ministry. For the last twenty four hours, a search had swept the country countless times, looking for Harry, using as many spells as possible. But as of yet there was no news. No news of Harry, of Voldemort, and most worryingly, no news of any of the known Death Eaters.
The clock chimed ten, making all in the room jump. Mrs. Weasley tried to rouse everyone out of the state they were in.
"You should all be in bed by now. It's late, and sitting here watching the table will not help Harry…Harry…Oh Harry! They'll never find him! He's lost to us! What will happen to us all?" Charlie stood up and guided his hysterical mother into a chair before waving his wand at the kettle, making it leap up and start to make tea. He sat back down in silence.
They sipped at the hot liquid and watched the minute hand swing round the clock one, twice, three times. No one had said anything after Mrs. Weasley's outburst, but the thought that Harry would never be found hung over all of them like a black cloud. Ron refused to look at anyone else, whilst Hermione sat chewing her bottom lip. Fred was holding Ginny's hand, and both George and Charlie were examining the grain of the tabletop.
Suddenly a loud bang as the front door flew open made everyone leap to their feet. Arthur Weasley staggered into the kitchen carrying what at first appeared to be an armful of rags. He bent over the table as he laid the bundle down gently, and then stood back. A gasp went round the room and Ron and Hermione cried out as they ran to the side of the figure.
Harry Potter was back.
A.N.: slight cliffhanger I know, sorry! Although this story is all planned out, I'm writing maybe a couple of chapters at a time in between school work...I'm probably getting more done this way that setting aside specific 'writing times'. Hehe.
Anyway, thanks to you lot for reviewing, and I'm glad you're all enjoying it!
Kiki: Voldy's just gloating. But I shall try and make him meaner. I think I may have a couple of other 1-to-1s; he's quite a good character to write. :)
Fippets: yay! And I will reinstate you as my beta when you decide to get back online, but at the moment, I quite like making you wait for the story ;) the spell was reversed by the potion that he was given in the last chapter, but that's shown working in this one. And will Harry go dark? Now that would be giving away my plot…
