Once again, I DO NOT own Harry Potter & co. so please, lawyers, leave me alone O.o /threatens with chicken tender/
A/N I WILL NOT UPDATE IF YOU DON'T REVIEW!
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Harry grasped his wand with trembling fingers and held it in front of him defensively. If he was going to be taken, he wouldn't go without a fight.
Every figure circling the middle-aged woman and Harry was completely motionless; their gazes fixed on Harry, as if waiting for him to act. Harry began to feel slightly dizzy. He felt like he was in a sea of darkness, choking on his own breath. His knees were threatening to give way, so he stared transfixed on a deatheater's mask, trying to think of a plan, anything, that would get Mrs. Weasley out of the tight situation.
His thoughts transformed as he continued to stare at the deatheater's white mask. Why had they chosen to be deatheaters, anyway? Harry bet fifty sickles that not five deatheaters in the room were even purebloods. And even if they were, why would they join Voldemort's ranks? They spent what was left of their so-called lives torturing and killing muggles and wizards alike, some of them probably their own family members, all for what? Torture? Surely they didn't get paid.
Ah, that's right, Harry mocked. They kill for the honor of serving their almighty Dark Lord, and that's payment enough.
He inwardly rolled his eyes, but soon darker thoughts clouded his mind.
Some did enjoy to torture, not just because they had to.
An image of Malfoy Senior immediately popped into his mind, smiling over Harry's shrieking, twitching body.
Harry shook himself out of that terrible thought, and came up with another reason why anyone in his or her right mind would join Voldemort's army.
Because they were forced to.
Of course, that had to be why most witches and wizards joined. Either they were cursed with unforgivables such as the Imperius and Cruciatus, until they finally gave in to join, or…
…it was tradition in the family to join.
Harry's mind drifted to the time when he saw Malfoy crying in the girl's lavatory.
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'…What will father say?' Malfoy gasped between sobs. 'Wait, don't answer that. I know what he'll do. He'll kill me! HE'LL FUCKING KILL ME!'
'There, there, Drakey. Just don't tell him. I did loads of stuff without telling my parents, and I was fine.'
'Oh, like that's really saying anything.. fucking ghost…'
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Harry couldn't help but smirk at that last part, but another memory appeared before him.
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…Malfoy stood, pointing his wand somewhat shakily at Albus Dumbledore.
'So, what's it like to know that your downfall will be to a Malfoy? Your own student even! Hah, losing your touch, old man?'
'You don't have to do this, Draco. If you're doing this for your family's safety, I assure you, they are well protected. Protected beyond the imagination. And you can be protected, too. You have a choice.'
'W-what? My family's safety? I am going to kill you for my Lord. How proud he'll be to have your head!'
'You are merely a follower doing Voldemort's bidding. He doesn't even care who you are. He will take all the credit for killing me, but those thoughts set aside; you have a choice. Remember this. You can make it all end right now. I can hide you and your family, you will never be found. You will always have that choice.'
Malfoy listened to Dumbledore, and Harry thought he saw his wand move slightly lower…'
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Everyone has a choice. The words rang through Harry's head. Everyone had a choice.. including every deatheater.
Harry had also been given a choice. It was in his first year at Hogwarts, and Voldemort himself had told him to join his ranks or die. Harry had chosen death rather than to bow down to the scum of a dark lord, and for his payment, every year at Hogwarts had become a living hell for him, because of the ever-growing threat of Voldemort. Many people had died on his behalf, and now, Mrs. Weasley's life was now in danger.
Harry tried to imagine what life would've been like if he had agreed to join Voldemort. He saw himself setting the Granger's house on fire... he saw Voldemort torturing Fred and George Weasley in a cold dungeon, and he laughed along with the rest of the deatheaters… everyone feared to speak his name… his face had become the symbol of death…Voldemort said he was like a son to him…
Harry woke out of his daze from that last thought, and found he had been staring at the same deatheater's mask the whole time. Suddenly the deatheater's face turned into his own, staring coldly back at him, smirking. He shivered and forced himself to turn around, staring at a whole new patch of deatheaters.
One of them came forward and spoke.
"Very good, Potter," a voice Harry recognized immediately as Lucius Malfoy's spoke, the deep tone ringing through the silent night. "Embrace the fear."
"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" Harry knew it was a stupid question, but he tried with every fiber of his being to not stutter.
"Oh, I think you know," the voice growled, and Harry could almost feel the trademark Malfoy smirk the man was probably making.
Harry stayed silent, and tightened his grip on his wand. He was just becoming aware of the cold sweat pouring down his face, and he wiped it away impatiently.
Harry desperately scanned his mind for a spell that could damage all of the deatheaters at once, but could only think of ones that could knock out a few. It would have to do.
Without taking a breath, he yelled, "Reducto!"
Where the spell should have collided with a group of deatheaters, a sort of invisible shield absorbed the beam of light. The spell disappeared into nothingness. Slightly started, Harry fired two more stunners, only to once again get absorbed by the unseen force.
The deatheaters watched Harry in amusement, laughing at his desperate attempts to penetrate the shield. After watching Harry fire a few more spells, Malfoy growled, "There is no hope for you, Potter. Hand yourself over willingly, and we may not hurt her."
Malfoy gestured towards the still-dazed Mrs. Weasley on the wooden kitchen floor. For a second, Harry thought he had a shot at rescuing the only person in the world he had ever considered a mother, but soon his senses caught up with him.
Oh, like he'd just let his rival's wife go freely, so she could tell the Ministry all that had happened, and have three dozen aurors chase after them? He already almost killed Arther Weasley's daughter, why would it be different for his wife?
As Harry realized this, he laughed as if the whole ordeal of deatheaters breaking into the Weasley's house was one big joke.
"Hah! What next? If I bake you all cookies, you'll just let me walk right out of here?"
Lucius Malfoy stayed silent for a few moments, then let out a small chuckle. "There will be no getting out of this, Potter." He chuckled again, but it was hinted with warning. "And I would watch what you say to your superiors."
It was Harry's turn to laugh.
"My superiors, now? Hah!" He tried to sound confident, but his every limb was shaking uncontrollably, and he hoped they wouldn't notice. "Y-You expect me to bow down to a bunch of oafs who waste their pathetic lives carrying out the orders of that halfblood, doing exactly what he-"
A red beam of light came out of nowhere and hit him square in the back. Suddenly his whole body felt afire. Each limb was being torn out by thick knives.. his skin was being ripped off in pieces and dragged along an endless sea of razors..
Harry's throat tore out a blood-curdling scream- his hands were pulling his hair in a desperate attempt to shop the excruciating pain. His screams continued in a long stream; he could distantly hear laughing as the deatheaters watched him convulse and twitch on the floor. Tears that he had held at bay now poured down his pale cheeks, and he could now feel blood spurting out of his mouth as his shrieking continued.
Yet the pain did not stop.
Harry began to choke on his own blood, but he refused to beg for mercy. He wouldn't die a coward.
He faintly heard a woman scream, and the pain abruptly stopped racking through his body. Harry stayed curled in a ball on the wooden floor, panting, twitching occasionally. He tried to open his sore eyes, but found that his muscles, even in his eyes, were too tired. Defeated, he let darkness cloud his mind, and passed out. He awoke hours later to a blinding red light.
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Yay, chapter 2! Hope you liked.. it's, like, 800 more words than I had intended it to be, but I hope it turned out all right anyway. Once again, I'm half looking for a beta, so if you're interested, email me! One more thing: You don't review, I don't update. Simple as that. Thanks for reading!
-Scoey-