Voldemort swept into a small, dimly lit chamber. His obvious anger crackled through the room like static electricity. Death Eaters glanced sideways at each other from their hurriedly assumed kneeling positions. Voldemort had the boy, his nemesis, totally under his control. He was free to do whatever he now wished, so where had this black mood come from? Anton Dolohov dared to raise his head and look up at his master.
"My Lord, if I may…"
"Silence!" the man was interrupted mid-sentence as Voldemort whirled around to face him. "You may not! You dare to address me without permission?"
The assembled Death Eaters didn't bother to hide their looks at this. Voldemort had never used his power in this way before. He never demanded absolute silence, absolute submission. Absolute obedience? Yes. Absolute respect? Yes. But not this, never this. Dolohov cowered in front of the thin man who radiated a power so great that none dared argue but the most foolish. Wormtail shuffled to a half crouching position.
"M…Master! The Boy. Is something…"
"Everything is wrong." Voldemort cut the quivering man's question short once more. "He calls me master, but there is nothing there but a dull terror. There is no love, there is no respect, solely fear. Only when he truly accepts me as a master will he be broken, and only then will I allow him to die."
There was an uneasy murmur that was silenced abruptly as Dolohov rose once more.
"My Lord, enough with this muggle torture. Physical pain can be tolerated after enough exposure. Turn to the magical and metal pain, that can never be avoided. And you are already well positioned to invade his mind." Dolohov spoke softly, but every word was heard. The Dark Lord stood, silent, thinking over what his most trusted right hand man had told him. He nodded abruptly and his followers visibly sank in relief and he stalked back out of the chamber.
Harry gasped as he slowly eased one of the bamboo splinters out from under his fingernail. He hadn't meant to bend so easily. In past battles he hadn't folded no matter how much pressure was put on him. Couldn't he fight off the Imperius curse without any help? And he hadn't meant it anyway. He'd have said anything to get rid of the pain.
He shook his head slowly as he pulled out the last of the splinters. His head was a mess, he couldn't tell his own thoughts from those of the…thing's. It had been easier in the beginning. But now they were beginning to mix. He almost believed himself when he said he hadn't meant it. Almost. He rubbed his hair with his now freely bleeding hand absently, leaving a smear of blood across his face. This time, he knew, he could not face Voldemort alone. He was too weak, too unprepared. He had to escape and find help. He knew that if he were caught, he wouldn't have a hope in hell, but there was the chance that he wouldn't be, and at the moment, that was the biggest chance he was going to get.
He moved towards the door. If he put his ear against the hollow wood, he found he could hear the pattering fall of rain. A slight breeze stirred a tuft of his hair.
'So they leave the window open. Good.' he murmured to himself.
Harry ran his hands swiftly over the door, feeling for any irregularity that could indicate a weak spot. Nothing. He felt methodically around the edges for hinges, vaguely remembering a Muggle film in which a cell door had been lifted off a simple hinge. Again, nothing. He stepped back slightly and stared hard at the door, thinking hard about what he should now do. Harry let his focus go, the door becoming blurry, and only then did he notice the thin golden lines hovering slightly off the surface of the door.
'Magic.' he whispered in awe. And then mentally slapped himself. What was he expecting? Voldemort, the most powerful Dark Wizard in centuries casually keeping his prisoners, some of far greater power than Harry, in cells closed only with a hollow bamboo door? Harry restrained himself from hitting the door in frustration, aware that violence could activate the magic locks and possibly lead to something disastrous.
'Think. Think!' he stared at the door, willing it to swing open as he wracked his brains for anything that could possibly be of help. And then it happened. He mentally tried to push the door, and to his surprise he felt, rather than saw, the magic give way a little. Not caring to think how he could achieve even this minute step, he summoned all his magic and pushed again at the door with his mind. There! Again! A crack was beginning to appear between the stone walls and the door. He pushed once more, and the door shifted again. A gap of about a hands width spurred him on, and he steadied himself to prepare for the final push. A thought floated into his brain.
Use the power.
Harry knew what to do. Using the same technique that Dumbledore had shown him for Leglimens, he focused it inwards, and found the pulsating grey slug, the combination of Voldemort's and Harry's power. Grasping it with invisible hands, he tugged a rope of power from its centre and wound it around his magic in a coil. Focusing once more on the door, he mentally hurled himself at it, using every last bit of his strength, and was rewarded as the door burst open.
Desperately needing a rest, but knowing he could not afford the time he slipped into the corridor and crossed to the half open window. If he held his breath, he could just climb through. Once again he thanked the lack of feeding from the Dursleys for his lithe figure. He put his hands on the sill and simultaneously jumped and pushed downwards with his arms, pushing his head and shoulders outside. He could not prevent himself from looking down, at the damp earth twelve feet below. Harry paused, it was pointless pushing himself through to plunge to his death. He would have to do this carefully. Tucking his chin into his chest, he gave a final heave, and felt himself come through the window and begin to fall. He twisted in the air, and when he finally his the ground, hit it with his shoulder, turning the fall into a roll.
'Just like gym.' Harry said, standing shakily. He hadn't practised that roll in six years, the last time being in the controlled environment of his junior school gym, from a height of a little under four foot. He looked up at the high window and suppressed a shudder, before turning and running off towards the distant dark green of what he assumed was a forest.
'After him.' And the room was full of popping as Voldemort's Death Eaters left at their master's command.
A/N: Woo chapter! There will be roughly two more of about this length, possibly longer, before the story is complete. And thank you guys for all the support, this is my first (semi) canon fic, and is definately the hardest to write what with the plot and trying to keep the characters in..uh...character.
As always, comments/advice muchly welcome!
Thank yous:
Buried fire: Glad you love it, its for people like you that I write!
Kelly: Am I imagining it or have you reviewed before? Hope this explains your question, and I admit, I just love being mean to Harry...
Artemis Moonclaw: Thank you! -big grin- have a cookie
Circe la Fay: Hehe pandas...maybe i should include them... "Harry walks into the panda room. lots of pandas maul him. the end.' Or maybe not. Also the macerena is SO going in our spoof.
Taurus 07: Hm yes sequel...well, lets wait till this one is finished eh?
Lord Localfreak: Yes, I did lots of research...hehe
Kybo: Thanks.
Fippets: You're crazy. But I love you. And why aren't you writing? Personal Statement is a rubbish excuse...
Rosiegirl: Guesses to my email only!
Honey Nut Loop: Great to see you again...and thank you!
acr: Am continuing...
ManicReversed: I have to say, I do, which is only slightly worrying... Ah I love Voldy, in a 'Wow you are hideous, evil and very very mean' kinda way.
Caroline: Thank you! As you couldnt wait...I'll dedicate this chapter to you!
