AN: go on enjoy, you know you want to…
It's Just a Nightmare 18
Harry felt his breath catch in his throat and before he could even think straight the voices disappeared down the corridor. A whole jumble of emotions entered his mind at the same time but the only coherent thought and emotion he could catch was that he needed to see Sirius. Even if it was only for a few minutes or even seconds, to just see Sirius' face.
A plot was already forming in his mind; a rather rash one but weren't Gryffindors known for rash plans? Without further a do he carefully crept out of the room making sure that there was no one in site. Warily he stole to the end of the corridor and peered round the corner. Suddenly a nastily obvious fact hit him full blast in the face. He had absolutely no idea where Sirius was being held captive! Of course the most obvious idea would be the dungeons but Voldemort had since furbished the dungeons into luxurious living quarters and it would be a cold day in hell when his father decided to give Sirius a room.
However Harry was a Slytherin after all and plan B was already in action. He would wait here for Fern to return and request to know where his father kept his prisoners because he was just curious. Fern would no doubt comply thus he would unconsciously and inconspicuously acquire his answer. He would crept down to see Sirius after dinner so Fern would not be with him. Harry would simply tell his father, if the circumstance arose that he was going to just explore the castle and have some fun on his own. "Yes" said Harry to himself in parsletounge, "this plan will not fail."
Fern returned to see her young master carelessly examining a charmed toy, which would morph into different animals when commanded.
"Fern has bought young master his dinner," she chirped in her usual high-pitched voice. Harry looked up with a much more interested look on his face.
"That's great, Fern. Thank you very much. Would you like some too?" he asked indicating to the large pile of sweets and drinks that she had bought. It wasn't exactly dinner but it would do for the mean time.
"Fern, would like to thank master very much but Fern is not allowed to eat food fit for master," the house elf replied in a very informative voice as if they were studying the night sky.
"Oh, I'm sure that no one would know if it was just once, Fern," Harry replied and gestured to a spot next to him on the thick creamy carpet. He needed to get Fern as relaxed and possibly drunk as possible in order to cajole an unsuspecting answer from her. "Do have some butterbeer, it's one of my favourite drinks. I remember we used to drink bottles by the dozen at our victory celebrations in the Gryffindor tower." A pang of lose instantly hit him in the face like a tonne of bricks. When would he ever get to party with his friends again? Probably never, he thought as he gulped down the butterbeer with the posture of a man downing alcohol to suppress to troubles of the world. However Fern's voice cut into his wallowing in self-pity,
"Fern is not allowed to drink, sir," she stated. Harry looked up and silently cursed the difficulty of his plan. Briefly he wondered if he could perhaps force an answer out of her using Imperio. What was he thinking of! Using an Unforgivable on probably the only person he could trust in the entire castle! And besides, the nasty little voice in his head added, your father will probably be monitoring all the spells that come out of your wand. Harry hesitated and said,
"Go on, don't worry. As I said before no one will know or find out." He gave Fern his most reassuring smile yet and tipped his glass to hers to apply some pressure. Her resolute finally cracked and she drank to him. From personal experiences Harry knew that one bottle was enough to seriously corrupt a house elf and he watch with well disguised anticipation as the bottle got emptier and Fern got drunker.
"Master must vvrally not blames Burn for not givin' him tosts 'cos she's too tired," giggled Fern. Harry saw his chance and grabbed it eagerly,
"Don't worry, in fact I will be eternally grateful if you will be kind enough to tell me where the dungeons are," said Harry in a hurry. He knew he had only a certain amount of time before Fern would pass out.
"Huh, dungeons? Fern don'ts do stuff in um dungeons dat's dot open to elves. Master Mcnair will be displeased if he finds us down there,"
"But surely you know where the dungeons are Fern! Please tell me!" pleaded Harry casting nervous glances at the door hoping that no one else had heard him shout.
"Fern had no idea, bu if master weally weally wants to know he can follow Mcnair out after dinner 'cos his and his friends are gonna to…." Fern collapsed before she could finish her sentence but Harry had got all he wanted already. So he would have to follow Mcnair if he wanted to see Sirius that is if Mcnair was at dinner. He carefully covered Fern's body with a thick blanket that had previously covered the rocking horse and proceeded to read a book while guarding her.
*
The dinner bell rang loudly through out the whole castle, a good sign that dinner was going to be a communal affair. Fern started to stir in her sleep and Harry practised his alibi for the fourteenth time. Fern opened her eyes to see Harry staring out of the window lost in his own thoughts.
"Master must forgive, Fern for her tardiness," she squeaked in horror as she heard the dinner bell ring for the fourth time and before Harry could stop her she was banging her head on the nearest hard object she could find.
"Stop that, stop it! I forbid you to harm yourself!" yelled Harry as he urgently pried the lamp from her grip. He certainly didn't want to see the only person he could trust in the vicinity of the castle being hurt. Fern smiled thankfully at him and rubbed her flat forehead gingerly with the bulb shaped tips of her fingers.
"Thank you master for your help," squeaked Fern looking at Harry with adoration. "You have been the kindest person to Fern for a very long time!" she saddened and then straightened up again, "Master must go to dinner now, Fern will take you there."
The journey to the dinning hall was silent as Harry contemplated his excuses to leave dinner and follow Mcnair. It wasn't going to be easy to pull off something like this but he had full confidence in his lying skills. After all if he could get by Snape he should be able to get by anybody else. However no matter how much he tried to reassure himself the sick feeling of dread had already started to kick in.
Trying hard to suppress the nasty butterflies in his stomach, Harry opened the grand oak doors once again. To his surprise and disappointment there was only his father stilling his usual place at the head of the table. The monster smiled at him as he sat down cautiously,
"Alex, you should be used to it by now. There is no need to be nervous there will only be us here tonight," Harry opened his mouth to ask why but then decided that it would be rather suspicious. He stared down at his plate hoping that his father could not read minds. It was some sort of meat again; he had never had the initiative to ask what it was.
"Father, what will I be doing this evening?" inquired Harry hoping that he might be able to get some clues to where Mcnair might be. Voldemort looked up curiously from his plate and surveyed his son before speaking in a calmly,
"You may do what ever you wish, my son. There is only potions tuition that is in the evenings, you are free on all the other days," Harry looked back down at his plate. His father's gaze was getting a little too intense for his liking. His heart began to take the strain of his nerves, he could almost feel the eyes sweeping over the side of his head as if they were trying to penetrate into his skull and peer into his mind. Beads of sweat formed on his head and around his nose. Some how he had a huge desire to keep his thoughts from Voldemort, even if the man was his biological father. Biological father, now that was the first time he had ever referred to Voldemort as his biological father. It was as if he was trying to cut all emotional ties with the man but hadn't he always wanted a family of some sort, a true place where he could belong as Harry, or Alex, and not the boy who lived? A suddenly chilling thought occurred to him: did his father resent him; after all it was he who had defeated the man. The thought seemed to make his heart ache. He wanted his father to love him and be like all other families but some how Voldemort just wasn't the kind of father that could do that but Sirius was…………. and Sirius may well have been his father. He needed to save Sirius, Sirius was his father. The thought seemed to have frozen him to the core. It felt like stating the obvious in one way but in another way it felt like a completely new idea. Harry could feel his hand shaking a little as he looked back at his biological father,
"Father," he seemed to choke on the word, "may I leave to go to my room?" Harry asked with all hopefulness. The Dark Lord surveyed him once again and nodded very reluctantly. Harry unsteadily rose from his seat hoping that Voldemort would not notice anything and walked out of the room as fast as possible.
There was no one outside and the hallway was dark and silent. His footsteps echoed loudly around the cavernous walls and Harry winced every time. He didn't really want to publicize his approach at all. What was he going to do? He was at a dead end. Maybe the house elf had only been imagining things; no it couldn't be the two Death Eaters had been talking about it but by their conversation it sounded as if they were planning to use Harry in some way. He shuddered at the thought of being Voldemort's weapon against his godfather. Slowly, he descended down a random flight of steps still embroiled in his own thoughts to notice where he was going. The air suddenly became chillier as if someone had foolishly switched on an air control system. Gushes of cold air seemed to dash at him and envelope him in their icily arms. Harry shivered but he persisted and soon he came to a long narrow tunnel like corridor lit by the light of a dozen flaming torches, spaced at very long, even intervals. Their meagre pools of light were insufficient in even lighting up most of the wall and there were huge shadows dancing in dark plots along the walls and on the floor. Harry would have considered looking back if it weren't for a candle, which was stuck to the door at the end of the corridor, illuminating the patterns on the wooden door. Cautiously he crept forwards towards the ray of light hoping that the door would not be locked.
It wasn't. The small but stout oak door swung open under the force of his push. The candle too swung in an arch and the flame was stretched, as it was blow back by a biting draught. Vigilantly, Harry stuck his around the door to see whether the coast was clear. The vicinity was devoided of all life. It was a circular room with a low grey stone ceiling, elucidated by a rusty chandelier of magical candles. There were three other tunnels leading out from this circular room so it seemed like an underground crossroad with no signposts. The air was so thick it became almost oppressive as Harry struggled to decide which way to go next. He wouldn't have continued if he hadn't had that strange sensation that he was being perused.
He took the tunnel on his right for no reason at all but he liked to think that it was slightly lighter than the other two. The tunnel was lit by the small green candles that desperately needed their wick trimming. The flames flickered and swayed as if their were dancing to some ghostly tune and the shadows danced with them. Harry hurried along hoping to get away from the damp and oppressing air of the tunnel. The tunnel was straight as a rod and Harry could just make out the out line of another door at the far end. A small border of golden light surrounded the frame of the door and Harry felt his neck hair bristle, someone was in there but he didn't want to go back now he felt as if he had just trekked over the Himalayas to get here and he wasn't going back. He could just over ride anyone who disagreed with him; he was the Dark Heir after all. The air got surprisingly cooler as he neared the door and small gusts of biting cold air nipped at him. The door was unlocked and yet again he carefully peered in to see who was there. There was no one there. The place was as silent as the grave and a bit colder too. Harry stepped inside.
The "room" was well lit by magical torches and he could see that the place was built out of rough, dark grey stone that looked as if they had faces. The first part was just a wide space with various armchairs, well worn with use and a desk strewn with parchment next to the grey stone wall. Then the spaced narrowed into a long, wide passage, which ended at another door. The place had a lot of doors, thought Harry was he surveyed his surroundings. He peered curiously down the passage to discover it was lined with sturdy oak doors set along regular intervals in the wall. They seemed to have slides on them so people could talk to each other or for something like that. Curiosity got the better of him and he slid back one of the panels ready to face what ever was inside,
"Fred, George," he screamed in surprise.
AN: hope you enjoyed that cliffhanger I promise the next chapter will be on by Monday 20th oct but I don't think it will be as long. PLEASE R+R thx!
