Forbidden

Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and so far there are no OCs in this story.

a/n: Hello there. This is the rather short prologue to my second attempted Harry Potter story. The first is called: Year One: The courage of the Griffin and it takes place when James and them first went to Hogwarts. Please, if you are reading this one, go read that one too! Please read: there will be some bloody scenes from time to time, but nothing too extreme. Also, review run this story. You review and you get an update, not too bad a deal if I say so myself.

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A rat scurried across the filthy, cold, damp stone cell that could, in muggle standards, be considered smaller than a closet. There were no windows, but there were two steel doors, their once shiny metallic exteriors now streaked with trace remnants of fire and a fair amount of blood. The other door was clean, almost glowing. In fact it was, for it was warded against the one sealed within. There was no need to ward the other door, the horror and the memories were too strong there, it would only lead to insanity.

The clean and warded door led to safety, to hope, to an escape only dreamed about, never anticipated. Sure, the prisoner wished for deliverance, but that could only come from death. The other led to a larger room, far larger, its ceiling so high it was enveloped in shadow that not even the brightest light could dismiss. Blood coated the floor, clogging the drain that had been inserted in the direct center of the room, underneath the machine that was able to drench the walls in the crimson life-force of the tortured.

You were fastened at your neck by a collar that strapped over your shoulders and torso, then your legs would be attached to a more lenient chain that in turn, was attached to a wheel that could raise your body until you hung totally parallel to the ground. It was easier to distribute damage easier that way. The collar could also be taken off, and transformed into arm bands, which went to a different wheel and chain. There was a reason why the upper walls ran red.

There were twin tables that ran the length of each wall that held instruments of torture, some without names. Almost an entire table was dedicated to whips, and the different edges, materials, and additions that could be added to each. Another held swords, daggers, and other sharp weapons of metal. In a small mahogany case, lying on crushed red velvet, were tiny rods with a single, serrated edge, undetectable by muggles and most of the wizarding world.

He had seen those, oh yes, he had seen those. He had one lying in his shoulder right now, its serrated edge creating even more damage if he even dared try and move. He had also the privilege of adding his blood to the collection of those on the upper walls. Only the special prisoners were allowed that right, and almost none survived the trip back to their cell. He had, and now he wished he hadn't.

He couldn't even remember how long it had been since his capture. A week? A month? A year? He just didn't care anymore. At first, he had all the hope in the world, claiming that someone, anyone, would find him. No one did. Then he swore they were just planning and then they would come for him. No one made an appearance. They had left him, condemned him. Finally he realized just what he had meant to them, he was a nobody, a person to laugh at, to pity, but never to mourn. They just didn't care.

His thin, gaunt body showed signs of starvation and dehydration, his hair was matted and probably would never come clean ever again. His eyes, his eyes were like shattered glass, they showed you what you wanted to see, but not as a whole. They were green, but instead of the usual flickering spark of mischief they held nothing but despair and hopelessness. His clothes were stiff with dried blood, what hadn't been shredded that is. A dark red bruise on his side proved evidence on a broken rib, and claws marks ran down the length of his side, as if some great beast had raked his claws down his body. His shoulder felt like it was on fire, the needle wreaking more havoc with each breath, it was torment.

How could I have been so stupid? Why didn't I realize it could have been a trap? Why did I run? Similar thoughts ran amuck around his mind, for that was the only place the torture couldn't reach. His mind was his, now and forever. It was just like them, to hand me over. Of course, to them, the minute I was out of the door I never existed. Maybe I don't. Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I- should just end it. End this torment. Yes, enough, they would understand. They would understand I had to get out of here, they would.

I have to accept it, I have to give in. I have to...I have to join him.

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All right then. Sorry about the shortness, but it was meant to be a teaser as well as the prologue to the story, duh. Please review, please!!